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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019679">Cheap Wine and Cigarettes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddsnends/pseuds/oddsnends'>oddsnends</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Henry Cavill - Fandom, Sand Castle (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Implied Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:28:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddsnends/pseuds/oddsnends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>kind of sort of inspired by the song "Cheap Wine and Cigarettes" by Jess Moskaluke</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cheap Wine and Cigarettes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>kind of sort of inspired by the song "Cheap Wine and Cigarettes" by Jess Moskaluke</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How stupid was she? </p><p>Knocking on the apartment door, waiting for the answer. He was on leave for two months and the first thing he did was call her. It was the same routine every fucking time. He would get home and once his family knew he was safe stateside, she was the first call he made. </p><p>“You came.” He opened the door, his beard thicker than she remembered. His hair beginning to grow slightly from the buzz cut he usually kept. </p><p>“Don't look so surprised.” She brushed past him, into the stark apartment. He only kept it as a place to lay his head, while he was in town. </p><p>“I didn't think you'd show.” He closed the door, following her across the small living room. “Not after the last time.” </p><p>The last time she had saw Captain Syverson had been messy. She had left him in a fury of yelling and screaming insults. He could take it. It didn't matter to him what she thought of his lifestyle or his job, it paid the bills and he made a difference – sometimes. </p><p>“Are you that lonely, you called me?” Her hand ran along the back of the leather couch. Her eyes fixed on his. A smirk creeping across his face. The things he had done to her on that couch, the things he could be doing to her on that couch, if she'd let him. </p><p>“I always call you, bug. Only you.” His southern drawl was enough to make her weak. Better than any drug was listening to that man. His deep rumbling Alabama accent, it made her knees buckle. Even his grunting and panting had a hint of Southern Boy. </p><p>“I don't know why.” She shrugged it off. </p><p>Syverson supposed in a twisted way, it was because he loved her. He had an odd way of showing it and he would never tell her, but he was certain that was it. His first call after his momma, the first face he wanted to see, the only body he wanted to hold once he was home. She was a drug and he couldn't shake her. </p><p>War was a lonely place. What he wouldn't give to have her in his bed every damn night. Thoughts of all the dirty things he did to her were what kept him warm on those long tours in that god forsaken hell. </p><p>“Drink?”</p><p>“So you called me up to get me drunk, then what?” Her brow raised, her arms folded over her chest. A breath caught in her throat when he laughed. That rich laugh, it was enough to melt her to the core and cause her panties to grow wet. Fuck him and the hold her had over her. </p><p>“Nobody is forcing you to do anything that you don't want, bug.” He moved to the small galley kitchen. A bottle of cheap wine sitting on the counter. </p><p>He hadn't had a chance to properly shop, grabbing the first bottle of alcohol he could find in the corner store down the street. A cheap bottle of wine would do the trick. Syverson poured the wine into his finest china, two chipped coffee mugs from days gone by, lifting one to offer her. He lived like he was still in Iraq, almost to the point of being feral. A real make do with whatever is available type of living. She was the only nice thing he had. </p><p>Pulling a pack of cigarettes from her purse, she placed one between her lips, before she could search for her lighter he had one lit and waiting. Mumbling a thank you, she inhaled deeply allowing the nicotine to soothe the bubbling nerves that were trying to make their way to the surface. </p><p>“How's life in the real world?” </p><p>He hated small talk, yet here he was making an attempt. Some how it didn't seem acceptable to call her over, hand her a glass of cheap ass booze, and then attempt to unload all of his pent up sexual frustrations on her. He had to at least ask how she'd been. The usual song and dance, how is work? How's life? Your fiance know you're here? </p><p>What a fucking tool that guy was. </p><p>The moron was only marrying her to make himself look good. Syverson would like to spend a few minutes with that ass. The Captain would show him a thing or two about being a man. Not some asshole hiding behind his daddy's fortune. </p><p>She came because she didn't want that douche. He knew it. He could feel it, despite what she told him. If she wanted that marriage, she wouldn't have came running the second he called her. Syverson sneered, the very thought of the trust fund pretty boy made his blood boil. She'd been his and his alone, until that dick came along waving his fancy cars and bank account at her. </p><p>Her official response had been that Syverson was married to the army. He was too focused on his job and left no room for her in his future plans. She was scared. He didn't have to hear her say it, to know. She was worried that being with someone like him meant that one day she woke up to hear he was gone. Never coming back. It was part of his job, a risk that Syverson had long ago accepted. If he didn't come home dead, he'd surely come home broken. She didn't want that either. </p><p>Syverson couldn't hold her at fault. She deserved better. It's what he told himself to make it easier. Instead he would keep her as long as she'd stay, fuck her when he could, get his fill and turn her loose. </p><p>“Why? You don't really care.” She took another drag from the cigarette. Licking her lips, as she exhaled the puff of gray smoke. Syverson leaned forward, his face inches from hers, lifting her hand to take the final drag off of the smoke. </p><p>“Maybe not, but it sounded more polite than telling you how good your lips would look wrapped around my cock instead of this cigarette.” He moved the paper rolled tobacco from her and snuffed it in a discarded ash tray. He didn't smoke often, but kept a few ash trays handy in case the mood struck. </p><p>“Sy,” Her voice barely a whisper. Closing the space, his arm wrapped around her, dragging her into him. </p><p>“The only time I want to hear you speak, is when you're screaming my name while on your back.” He growled, his hand sliding up the back of her shirt. “Understand that, bug?” </p><p>Crass and improper, yet she found it strangely arousing. She couldn't get enough. She shouldn't even be here, this is where she should turn and leave. Thank him for the chat and never look back. Oh fuck. Those blue eyes, the left with it's halo of brown, knew how to stare right through her. Her breath stilled and he knew he'd won her again.</p><p>If only for the night.</p>
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